


between the shadow and the soul

by Fadesintothewest



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:33:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6020593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fadesintothewest/pseuds/Fadesintothewest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros and Fingon. Dreams and starlight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	between the shadow and the soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ziggy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziggy/gifts).



> Mods I hope its ok that I did a second story for ziggy after the archive has opened.
> 
> I hadn't intended on writing this little story. I had originally planned for a longer story to gift to Ziggy that is the other story I posted for Ziggy. Work's been crazy, keeping me from reading and writing. Feeling inspired by Valentine's day my muse bit and i itched and out came this story. So happy to be writing again!
> 
> This is a second story, a part of my gift for ziggy! The poem is Pablo Neruda's "One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII"

 

* * *

 

_“I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,_

_or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:_

_I love you as one loves certain obscure things,_

_secretly, between the shadow and the soul…_

 

Maitimo let Findekáno’s hair slip between his fingers, observing how the hair would pool on the pillow. Findekáno snorted contentedly. Maitimo smiled. These stolen moments fed his soul, but this night was different. Telperion’s silver shadow was dimmed, the silver glow revealed a blacker sky, the distant stars of Varda seemed to hang closer, radiating white light. Maitimo’s love for Findekáno was bright and bold, yet lingered in shadows, between the light of Laurelin and the silver of Telperion, but on this night Maitimo’s love was like the white light of the stars: present and cold, immortal and old. Strange. Findekáno appeared different to him, seemed older too. There was a weariness etched on Findekáno’s beautiful face, as if he had seen much more of time than Findekáno come of age and newly in love. Maitimo felt he would burst. How could Findekáno be rendered more beautiful? It was as if Findekáno had traveled through starlight, and fell through a crack in the universe, discovered only by Maitimo. Had Maitimo been blinded by youth, by his innocence in Aman? Whatever it was, Maitimo would not object to it. Whether come of age or this starlight creature, Maitimo would love… loved Findekáno.

 

_…I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries_

_the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,_

_and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose_

_from the earth lives dimly in my body..._

 

Findekáno opened an eye, sensing Maitimo was studying him. The energy in the room quieted. A strange stillness like the absence of time filled the space between them. Maitimo was young, again, whole again, the kiss of youth dewy on his cheeks. Findekáno sighed. Love allowed him to see him in all the ways he had been Maitimo, and yet…

And yet Maitimo’s youth betrayed an innocence, like the innocence of a flower not yet bloomed, the bud folded tightly in the stillness and innocence of youth, waiting, yearning to open and greet the life that was waiting, all that was to come. Findekáno gently placed his rough hands against Maitimo’s cheeks: soft and warm, inviting him to fall into the love they shared in secret, between the light and dark, a moonlight not yet come to be.

Maitimo kissed Findekáno’s hands, his lips like fingers touching the callouses that tickled his lips. What labor had rendered Findekáno’s hands so worn? What time had Findekáno secreted away from him where such wear and tear could so boldly come to be? Maitimo trailed kisses up Findekáno’s strong arms to that place reserved just for him, the nape of the neck, behind the ear, that sweet spot where Maitimo would let his kisses linger, his nose buried in the darkness of Findekáno’s hair. And yet Findekáno smelled of Findekáno, but more too. What was that? Maitimo breathed his lover in deep. It was Findekáno. It was always Findekáno. Was he remembering or was he imagining another time and place? No matter, Maitimo considered, his kisses led him to Findekáno’s sweet lips. That’s all that mattered.

 

_…I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,_

_I love you directly without problems or pride:_

_I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,_

_except in this form in which I am not nor are you,_

_so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,_

_so close that your eyes close with my dreams.”_

 

Maitimo felt the absence of his hand upon his chest, the absence a presence. He could feel his fingers twitching, but where his mind should register touch there was only absence and the searing shock of the pulsating energy his body sent to his hands met by emptiness. But a hand was there in its place emanating energy, warmth, and love.

Findekáno’s eyes fluttered open, feeling Maitimo stir next to him. Maitimo had been dreaming. The full moon shone through the window, illuminating the small room. The fire in the hearth was sleeping, awaiting to be conjured, but Findekáno found comfort in the chill of the night. It tempered Maitimo’s fevers. Perhaps it was the magic of the moonlight, but Findekáno swore he had stumbled upon Maitimo’s dreams, coming upon a moment taken from their youth, but Findekáno was no youth. Ah but what a dream to come upon, finding himself in Maitimo’s arms as he had been, beautiful and innocent, unmaimed. And yet Findekáno would love Maitimo in any time, in any form and though remembering Maitimo beautiful in his youth filled Findekáno with a deep sense of time for the wounded man at his side was larger than beauty. However Maitimo would come to Findekáno, he—Maitimo—would be for Findekáno and Findekáno would be for Maitimo. It could be no other way. Findekáno had seen the stars and found that in them, through his dreams, he had made his way to Maitimo once more.

Maitimo stirred, but he kept his eyes closed, unwilling to give up the dream. Findekáno brought a glass of water to his lips. Maitimo took a deep sip. Satiated Maitimo let his head fall back onto the pillow. He needn’t speak with Findekáno for their thoughts were open to one another for the first time on this side of the world. Findekáno had dreamt with him, been with him as Maitimo had been and yet Findekáno was not changed. Only Maitimo was changed. Maitimo hesitated. The white light of Findekáno’s thoughts hummed deep inside him, conjuring memory. Maitimo sighed, allowing his eyes to open and look upon a world he also feared, but Findekáno’s warm body next to him gave him courage. Of course Findekáno too was changed. They all were. But one thing was not, that one thing more than an object but creation unto itself, burning, buzzing, growing, immortal and timeless, their love for one another.

The starlight grew bright. An explosion in the cosmos. Light traveled and it appeared distant in the future. Its origins began in the emptiness of matter, before thought, before breath. Findekáno and Maitimo glimpsed the brightness of the star expand in the night and dissipate. Findekáno turned to look upon Maitimo. Maitimo’s eyes traveled to search for the blue so familiar in Findekáno’s eyes. Both understood in that moment that they would not see the end of their days upon this middle earth, but they knew, if they searched enough, if they had hope enough, that between the shadow and the soul was the matter that led to starlight, to the brightness of their love. In darkness there would always be possibility of light and so together they watched the sunrise.

 

_––Pablo Neruda, "One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII"_

_translated by Mark Eisner_

* * *

 


End file.
